A Few Days in April
by sarapals with past50
Summary: A new story in our "A Few Days" series, all fluff. (Follows #18) Sara and Gil Grissom and their young family welcome a person from the past into their home. Romance shows up, of course! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: We thought we had finished this series- but not yet. Here's one more for those who have asked for and enjoyed the previous stories of Sara and Gil Grissom and a little team of their own! All are back in this story along with a person from the beginning of this series. _

_Of course, we don't own CSI or Sara or Gil (or things would be very different on CSI!)_

_Enjoy!_

**A Few Days in April**

**Chapter 1**

The mornings of April are sometimes warm, often damp with dew or wet with night time rain that always provided a sense of freshness. In a time when peaceful seclusion was almost impossible to find, spring came quietly with the smells of the earth—plowed fields, greening of grass, the first swell of new buds on trees.

Sara opened her eyes, took a deep breath to rediscover the intimate fragrances of her life, and listened for familiar sounds within the walls of her home. What she heard was a succession of tranquil sounds. The first, and nearest, was the regular breathing of her husband, a sound that had comforted her for years as each of his breaths seemed perfectly timed, like a soft metronome, marking a rhythm for her life as well as his. The second sound was the rain—much needed at this time of year—as it gently tapped the roof and rinsed the house, and would brighten and bloom every blade of grass, every plant and flower around their home.

As she processed sounds, she realized there was another person breathing in her bed—small child sized puffs—on the other side of her husband; smiling, she knew it was their youngest child, Will, who as a toddler had recently gone from crib to bed and often found his way to sleep with his parents. She was thankful there was only one child in the bed.

Beyond the sounds of breathing and rain, she heard the quiet rustle and swish of movements outside of the bedroom; when her first child had been an infant, Sara had made the decision to sleep with the bedroom door open and she knew the sounds were made by her oldest daughter, Bizzy.

Knowing her daughter would be dressing and content to have her own quiet time, Sara decided to stay in bed for a few more minutes. She worried about all of her children, not constantly, and usually only in quiet times, but hearing Bizzy stir earlier than anyone else, caused her concern to rise.

Her first daughter, whose birth had been the beginning of a new chapter—no, a new book—Sara thought, was intuitive beyond her age, had intelligence that boarded on prodigy, and a gift to disguise her brilliance. Often, the child knew what her mother was thinking before Sara voiced her thoughts.

Carefully, she extradited herself out of bed, glancing at the two sleeping forms, both seemed to sense her movement and stretched, moving from a tight nested cuddle to spread arms and legs across the bed. Softly, she laughed as her husband shifted and spread his arms; her youngest child did the same. The spread-eagle Vitruvius man and son, she thought, as she wrapped a lightweight robe around her body, went to the bathroom and then slipped quietly from the bedroom.

Her daughter had heard her or was already headed to the kitchen when Sara entered the hallway and the two smiled the same smile as they hugged and kept arms around each other as they headed to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," Sara whispered as her lips touched the dark-curled hair of her daughter. "You're up early." She felt a book that was tucked under Bizzy's arm.

A lift of narrow shoulders, followed by a soft giggle, "I wanted to read—I love this one."

Sara hugged her daughter tightly. From the moment she had known she was pregnant, she had vowed her child would have a different childhood than the one she had lived. Her husband had surprised her with this house near her mother, and, more importantly, the group of nuns who had taken Sara and her mother into their community.

Surrounded by supportive neighbors, Sara and Grissom found a quiet and organized life. Shortly after Bizzy was born, Sara knew she wanted another child—and got twins, Ava and Annie. The day Sara learned she would have twins, Grissom brought Eli Brown, the son of Warrick, from Las Vegas to live with them. And now there were five of them. At times Sara found her life, the simple joy of it, the beauty of her children, the devotion of her husband, almost unbelievable.

"I'll start breakfast and you can read," Sara said.

Bizzy pulled a chair away from the table. "I can fix your tea, Mom! You know the others won't wake up for a while." She opened her book. "You can read to me?" The lilt in the girl's voice reflected a younger tone of Sara's voice.

Sara smiled, "Okay," and began to read a story familiar to young girls for decades. A few minutes later, Bizzy placed a steaming mug in front of her. Sara patted her thigh and her daughter hopped onto her lap. As the tea steeped, Sara continued to read as her daughter nestled against her chest.

When she paused at the end of the chapter, Bizzy said, "I like this."

"I do too." Sara kissed her daughter's temple. "We don't have much quiet time in this house, do we?"

Bizzy giggled. "No, but I love all of us—even when Annie and Ava are jumping around thinking they are ballerinas!" She giggled again, adding, "I think we have more kids than anyone at school."

Sara knew that was true and murmured agreement.

The slim girl wiggled, turning to face her mother. Sapphire blue eyes the color of her father's blinked at Sara. "Can we go to chapel today? Even in the rain? The music is always pretty on Sunday."

"Sure," Sara said. She had little belief in organized religions, but their religious neighbors had created a sanctuary—a retreat for adults seeking quiet answers—and were part of their extended family. The women loved Sara's children and were loved in return. And Sunday service, a simple ceremony with music, a choir, and prayers, was one way Sara showed her love and respect for the women who had known her longer than anyone else.

"Can we have waffles for breakfast? I'll help."

Softly, Sara laughed. "Waffles on a rainy Sunday morning sound perfect."

Bizzy smiled. "I love to read. This is probably my favorite book."

Sara knew the favorite book changed weekly. "You read the next chapter." She enclosed her daughter in her arms and used her fingers to hold the book open. She could feel her daughter smile as the child began to read about a red-headed orphan named Anne Shirley.

_A/N: This one is all fluff-with a bit of panty driven smut coming soon! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Another chapter! Enjoy!_

**A Few Days in April**

**Chapter 2**

Four brightly colored umbrellas bounced in front of Gil Grissom—two identical purple ones with a crown attached to the top, a green frog, and a red lady bug. He smiled as he watched eight equally colorful boots follow a wobbly path with two pairs of feet avoiding pools of water and two pairs with pink butterflies, marching through every puddle of rainwater capable of producing a splash.

He pulled his arm tightly around his wife who was holding a giant umbrella over herself, him, and Will, who he carried between them.

Making a slight snorting sound which caused Sara to laugh, he said, "Never thought I'd see this." When her eyebrows lifted, he continued, "I would never have guessed—speculated—never dreamed—that you and I would be doing this!" His head nodded toward the four umbrellas.

Sara giggled, sounding much like a teenager as she said, "The five kids or the going to church part."

Softly, Grissom chuckled. "Both—either one! I know what you think about religion," he whispered. "However, I always knew you'd be a great mom."

Sara knew his comments were made as an on-going joke. She said, "It's important for the kids—I think! And a way to repay kindness."

He tightened his hold around her shoulders. "You are something special, you know." He leaned around his son and kissed Sara's cheek.

Will wiggled and did the same, giggling as he left a wet kiss and patted his mother's cheek with a chubby hand. Sara reached over and ran her fingers through golden curls. The baby boy responded with a smile that showed a row of white teeth and deepened the dimple in his chin.

In that moment, the sun broke through the clouds; rains drops fell in a sudden last burst before trickling to a stop, and just as quickly it was a sunny day. Sunlight sparkled rain droplets creating a sea of watery diamonds. The four children squealed as the one holding the green frog umbrella folded his umbrella and shook it at his sisters. The girls jumped in a dodging dance knowing it was impossible to avoid the glittering shower.

Laughter and shrieks diminished as Eli helped his sisters fold their umbrellas. The path ended at a paved road; the children waited for their parents to catch up, and they crossed together.

The narrow driveway they followed quickly opened to a familiar scene—a small farm spread before them. The children knew the barns, pastures, gardens, and house almost as well as they knew their own. The place had not changed much since Sara had visited years before, reluctant to believe her mother's luck and life might be transformed by a group of nuns. Yet over time, so much had changed.

The farm had been donated to the small order by a Catholic family who had simply died away. Surprising everyone within fifty miles, a small group of women set to work and had established a sustainable farm by the time Laura Sidle was admitted into their community as a lay associate. Sara thought the arrangement was odd at best—after all her mother had killed her father—but it was an answer to her mother's prayers.

Years later, when Sara had been the one who sought a safe haven from an internal storm, the same women had opened their home and their hearts to her. When she and Grissom returned from Costa Rica, the women had welcomed them as family, had been with them as their family grew to include five children; four of them splashing through puddles on their way to a simple religious service.

The chapel was a recent addition; a simple wooden structure with a small belfry on its roof. Inside, it was a church in miniature with one central aisle, a choir stall consisting of one bench along the front wall, and six rows of short wooden pews, divided by the aisle. Six multi-colored windows provided light. The fifteen women who lived on the farm plus the Grissom family and several other couples who lived nearby made up the 'congregation'.

Sara always thought of Murphy's Oil Soap when she entered the chapel. The scent, faint as it was, emanated from every wooden surface—the floors, the walls, the pews—as if the product had been used to scrub away newness and create an atmosphere of holiness from wood. She always thought it would be better—more 'one with God'—to have the windows open and the scent of the earth filling the chapel than a cleanser. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

Every Sunday, the priest, a man on the brink of retirement, arrived for mass—simple and quick—and usually stayed for lunch and a nap. From first prayer to last, the service rarely lasted longer than thirty minutes, and this included several songs. Sara had expressed her concern that the presence of her children hurried the service, but Sister Deborah had assured her it was not the children, but the noon-time meal that shortened the priest's words.

Today, they were greeted with hugs and help in removing raincoats and wet boots, replaced by dry shoes, and quiet admiration of new dresses the twins were wearing. Will was passed between several older women, Bizzy was in quiet conversation with one of the nuns, Eli had already taken a position near the belfry rope, and Grissom was talking to one of their neighbors as Sara hung coats along pegs on the back wall.

With a signal from the priest, the bell rope was pulled ten times and everyone turned from talking and took places in the pews.

As usual, Sara's family took two pews; Grissom with Bizzy and Eli in front of Sara, Ava, Annie and Will. With the exception of the baby, the children knew the religious routine of the service and participated in signing the cross, in prayers, and in sitting quietly during readings. It was so routine, so ordinarily typical, that when Bizzy dropped her prayer book and Will dropped a stuffed toy, Sara's attention turned to them for a few seconds.

Later, she would realize she had been thinking of other things, but at the moment Sara bent to retrieve the toy, Ava slipped from the pew as quietly as a leaf falling from a tree. In seconds, she was walking toward the priest.

Grissom's head had turned toward Bizzy and the sound of a fallen book. As he turned back to the priest, he heard a collective intake of breaths; the priest raised his eyes from his reading. The eyes of five or six women in the choir were suddenly on one spot. Grissom turned his head.

It took Sara a few more seconds to realize how quiet the chapel had become—just as those in front of her turned toward the aisle, she realized Ava had left her seat and was walking toward the priest. She started to stand—to stretch a long arm toward the escaped child—but her bag fell from her lap and hit the floor. Toys, a diaper, wet-wipes, lose change scattered around her feet.

Ava kept walking.

"Ava!" Her dad loudly whispered, "Stop!"

The little girl turned and waved.

Sara would never be sure who made the first quiet laugh but it was quickly joined by two, then three, as amusement spread to everyone in the chapel. Afterwards, Sister Deborah said the priest was the first one to laugh.

It wasn't the walk, because Ava and Annie would frequently change pews, but what Ava had done with her dress that caused the disruption—she had flipped the back of her skirt up over her head. And in her typical little girl manner, she was slowly walking, holding her skirt under her chin. From the backside, her pink Hello Kitty panties were visible, but the bottom of the little girl was not what caused the laughter.

None of the nuns wore traditional habits, but most wore head coverings, usually a short veil, and Ava's imitation was obvious.

By the time Grissom rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle, everyone in the chapel was laughing. Which only fueled Ava's antics; she beamed as she turned, seeing her father striding toward her. She gave a laughing squeal and pitched forward into a run just as Grissom's fingertips touched her shoulder. She escaped and made it to the simple alter where the laughing priest stood.

Sara had clamped a hand on Annie's shoulder to keep her in her seat.

When Ava's hands caught the skirt of the black-robed priest, he managed to hold up a hand to stop Grissom's progress and placed one on the child's head. His upraised hand covered his mouth for a few seconds.

"I believe it is time for our benediction," the priest said, softly, amusement edged his voice. He managed to hand over the wayward child as he smoothed her dress in place.

Before the prayer, Grissom retrieved his daughter and carried her to the last pew, shaking his head as he walked. As he passed his older daughter, he saw her head bowed, hands covering her face. Embarrassment caused by a sibling was tough to handle, he thought. And he knew this would not be the last time.

_A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! We have been somewhat surprised by the reception of this new story...thanks so much. More fun and fluff to come!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading!_

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 3 **

A dozen baby chickens worked wonders to overcome embarrassment of one child and soften the scolding of another.

Sara and Grissom had reached a comfortable resolution in dealing with their children's inappropriate behavior and setting boundaries for conduct—Bizzy and Eli had rarely required a word of caution—so unlike Ava and Annie. Sara watched as her angelic twins, almost identical little cherubs, held fluffy baby chicks in their hands, cooing and babbling at each other, quick smiles or giggles as they responded to one of the adults.

Eli and the old priest had wandered to the back yard and appeared to be in deep conversation. The girls were absorbed in playing with the baby chickens and Will was happy to be toddling from one adult to another. Talking to one of the neighbor's, Grissom was using one of the children's umbrellas to draw in the gravel.

"Can you believe how beautiful the day is?"

Sara jerked out of daydreaming and turned to Sister Marie. "Yes, it is. I think spring is around us."

The woman laughed; she had been at the farm for years, had known Sara's mother, and had cared for Sara and her children. "Stay for lunch. We have roast beef and potatoes—plenty of it—peas, green beans, mac and cheese, and a canned fruit salad and a fresh green salad. And homemade rolls."

Sara had to laugh. Sunday lunch with the nuns was a long-standing tradition; Sara was always invited by Sister Marie or another one of the nuns who would then announce to the children they would be eating lunch with them. It always created excitement.

"Let me help," Sara said, knowing the most she would be allowed to do was put Will in a highchair.

"Oh, no, dear! We have everything ready!" Sister Marie smiled, turning to the three little girls. "Your mother says you can eat lunch with us! Is everyone hungry?"

This was her family, Sara thought, not just the children, but these women who believed in goodness and kindness and benevolence, who loved with no reservations.

By the time everyone gathered around two long tables, nearly thirty people stood quietly for a blessing of the food. The aroma of yeast rolls filled noses as the priest recited a short prayer and very quickly, platters and bowls were passed from person to person with much talking as plates were filled and food tasted.

While Sara did not eat meat or serve it at her home, she was a liberal vegetarian; her children ate what they wanted with the girls usually eating what she did and Eli ate what his dad ate. Sara knew Grissom loved to eat with the nuns because they always served meat—and the smell of chicken frying could reach their house on the wind which gave him a reason to visit.

Sunday lunch was one time during the week when Sara and Grissom relaxed, enjoyed a meal prepared by others, and knew their children were under watchful and caring eyes. After plates were emptied, desserts were passed—pound cake, berry cobbler, and lemon pie—and disappeared as compliments were given to the cooks.

No one hurried to leave; Sara and several of the women cleaned the tables while others dispersed to the porch, the gardens, or moved to comfortable chairs. Sara's children were looked after; from the kitchen window she saw the priest with Eli and Bizzy and the brief thought crossed her mind as to what they were doing but for months the three had been 'best friends' on Sundays.

She watched for several minutes as the old priest pointed to something and Eli took a posture with one arm stretched in front of his face. Sara moved to get a better look and realized her son had an old fashioned sling-shot in his hands. A shiny can sat on a fence post several yards in front of the trio.

At that moment, she heard an unhappy cry and knew Will was ready for a nap. It took several minutes to fill his cup with milk, another few minutes for him to decide he wanted to stay in the lap of the older woman who held him, and two or three minutes to find Ava and Annie on the porch with their dad. Grissom gave a two-fingered "all is well" sign.

Returning to the kitchen, Sara found Bizzy with Sister Deborah and two others setting up an old domino set. The scoring game played by the nuns had been the first recognition of Bizzy's mathematical abilities when they realized the small child was adding up pips as the tiles were played. They had proceeded to add difficulty to the game with addition, subtraction, and multiplication, before Bizzy had reached school age.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes for her to return to the window—the priest was sitting in the swing, alone, and Eli was not in sight.

She turned to Bizzy, asking, "Do you know where Eli is?"

"He's with Father Joseph—did you see his slingshot? Father Joseph made it! Eli was trying to hit a can with a rock."

Puzzled more than worried, Sara returned to the porch—no Eli. Not wanting to raise an alarm, she returned to the kitchen and picked up the trash bags.

"I'll help," Sister Marie said as she extended her hand.

Sara tied one of the trash bags closed; Sister Marie must be eighty, she thought. The small, delicate size of the nun masked a strong and tough individual with a face that creased from hairline to chin when she smiled. Sara handed her one of the bags.

"I'm looking for Eli—he disappeared a few minutes ago."

"Wasn't he with Father Joseph?" Sister Marie's voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "The old guy needs someone to look after him—and he drives out here every Sunday!"

The two walked to the trash cans and saw no sign of Eli. As Sara turned a slow circle, Sister Marie said, "Let's try the barn—he's probably with the baby chickens."

They had not taken but a few steps when Eli came into view; the two women stopped. Before she could fully process what she was seeing, Sara heard the nun's laughter beginning as a soft chuckle and, seconds later, becoming a full blown snort as she clapped her hands together.

By the time Eli stopped in front of them, Sister Marie was doubled over in laughter; a seldom heard magnificent laugh resounded around the yard and echoed against the barn. The old nun reached for Sara's arm as she straightened up.

In a voice filled with glee, she said, "Oh, dear, oh, dear—Eli!" Her chortles filled the air around them.

Sara was speechless. She could not believe her eyes.

In one hand, his arm outstretched, a smiling Eli held a dead rooster. "I shot him dead with my slingshot!" He proudly announced. "We can have fried chicken tonight!"

Sister Marie's obvious enjoyment of the situation finally revived Sara's ability to speak.

"Eli! What have you done?"

The nun's hand closed on Sara's arm. In a whisper, she said "I've hated that rooster for years!"

"Eli, why did you kill the rooster? You know…"

"But, Mom! I didn't mean to do it—but he just got in the way of my rock! And then he fell over." Eli realized his mother was not happy. "He just walked in front of me!" He tried to explain, "and I wasn't trying to hit him—he—he was running around!"

Sister Marie took the rooster from his hand and started examining the bird. "There's no blood—are you sure you hit him?"

Eli nodded, relieved someone other than his mother was talking to him.

"Oh, Eli!" Sara said again as her hand went to her face. "You shot the rooster!"

Sister Marie was still laughing. "Come with me, Eli. I think your mother needs a few minutes to recover. We'll check this old rooster out and see how he died." She turned to Sara and winked.

Sara was flabbergasted that her child had killed a farm animal; she knew he ate chicken and beef when he and Grissom visited the neighbors, but for him to pick up the dead rooster and proudly show off his kill—she did not know if she wanted to cry or laugh. Well, she thought, Sister Marie had not helped by laughing so heartily.

Suddenly, she was not alone. Grissom and one of the neighbors had heard the laughter of Sister Marie and left the porch. Ava and Annie were chasing each other around her legs.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked when he noticed the distress on Sara's face.

"Eli shot a rooster!"

"What?"

"Father Joseph gave him a slingshot and the first thing he did was shoot the rooster!" Sara said, exasperation edging her answer. "He brought it to us like a trophy—and—and Sister Marie…"

"Laughed?" Grissom said with a chuckle; the look he got from Sara was enough to stifle his laugh. "Why don't you take the girls and I'll—we'll go," he nodded to the neighbor, "We'll go check the—victim. I can't believe Eli killed a rooster with a slingshot."

Sara's expression was enough to send the two men toward the barn.

Taking a hand of each little girl, she sighed and headed into the house to make an announcement about the death of a rooster.

…Much later, in a quiet house, five exhausted children sleeping soundly, Sara stepped out of the shower to find her husband holding a warm towel.

"I thought you might enjoy this after the day you've had," he said with a lopsided smile forming on his mouth.

Softly, Sara laughed as she let him wrap the dryer-heated towel around her. "Only on a Sunday, Gil. First, Ava and her panties in front of everyone—I thought it would be weeks before one of them topped that little stunt!"

Grissom nuzzled the back of her neck as she wrapped a towel around her hair. "It was only a rooster—and one they wanted to get rid of! As Sister Marie said, all her laying hens wanted to be brood instead of lay eggs!"

"I can't believe he killed it with such a small stone!"

Pulling out a small stool, he indicated she should sit while he towel-dried her hair. "Lucky shot—I believe Eli—he couldn't hit a can on the fence post, much less anything moving! That rock hit the carotid and mister rooster never knew what hit him." Leaning over her head, he kissed her forehead and breathed deeply.

Sara was nearly as exhausted as her children but there was an overriding perpetual state of joy. She felt she was caught up in a chaotic but grand adventure; she felted blessed—and loved.

She rose and turned, moving into Grissom's arms. Light blazed in the blue of his eyes.

"Sara," he whispered, pushing his face into her damp hair.

She closed her eyes and put her lips against his neck, feeling the warmth, tasting the heat. Her hands slipped underneath the soft white shirt he wore.

Without a word, he led her into their bedroom where he removed her towel before lowering her to the bed.

"I've wanted you all day," he said, eyes fixed on her face, "even when you were upset about that damn rooster." His eyes laughed before a grin spread across his face.

His smile, his fingers touching her face, tracing the rim of her jaw, her nose, her eyebrow, caused Sara to smile. The adventure continued.

_A/N: Yes, a rooster can be killed with a slingshot! Thank you for reading-and a special THANK YOU to those who send comments! Next chapter-soon! _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you for reading; a special thank you to those who review! _

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 4**

Making love to her husband always brought a heightened sense of awareness to Sara. Every cell in her body responded to his touch. At one time she had abandoned hope of ever experiencing the power of passion Gil Grissom gave her, but now the energy of life swirled through her like a great storm.

Raising her fingers to thread into his hair, she pressed her lips to his; his mouth closed over hers, searing and hungry. The events of the day seemed to fade as passion pulsed between them.

Grissom stretched alongside her, half covering her, and closed one hand over the curve of her breast. As his thumb circled her nipple, Sara could feel the small callous that had developed near his knuckle graze against her tender skin.

Leaning over, he kissed her slowly and began an unhurried exploration of the woman he knew so well. His warm palm moved along her belly, her hip, her thigh, stroking her gently until every muscle and nerve pulsated with desire.

Sara's hand slid down his back, swept over his hip and found the heavy, rigid length of his erection.

"Lightly," Grissom murmured as her fingers wrapped around him.

Sara stifled a giggle.

"Don't laugh. I can feel you laughing."

"I'm not laughing—I'm smiling. I'm always—always delighted to find so much of you."

He laughed before he nuzzled his lips across her right nipple at the same time he stroked her again, deeply within her folds in such a way that Sara could no longer think coherently and her giggle turned into a moan of desire. His thumb caressed and circled; his finger gently probed.

Sara knew she was about to fly into the heart of a passionate storm as his fingers swirled and his lips returned to hers. Her hips lifted and in a flash, Grissom moved on top of her.

An indescribable rush of exhilaration and excitement flooded through Grissom, as it always did when he made love to his wife. Sara was more than his wife, he thought; she was part of him and the certainty, the desire that was his was willingly met with an intoxicating heat in her eyes. Love making was slow and deliberate, savored with a sense of rightness.

And, even now, years after he had admitted his love, he literally ached for her. When he could no longer bear his need, he entered her, slowly, deeply, setting free a dual storm of passion.

Exquisite pleasure unleashed thunderous waves of emotion as Sara was engulfed in her climax. She opened her eyes. Her husband was watching her with such intensity that she could see bright flashes in his eyes.

"Sara." He spoke her name in loving amazement.

The muscles of his back tensed, his arms tightened around her as he thrust deeply inside her. And then his climax was upon him, eliciting a second, gentler wave of pleasure within her. Together, they fell into the flashing, rippling currents of a passionate whirlpool.

For a while, they drifted between satisfied awareness and a peaceful twilight before sleep, keeping their bodies together, occasionally whispering words of love, always touching.

"Would you like ice cream?" Grissom asked.

Sara's soft giggle answered. "No, keeping you here is much better than ice cream." She snuggled even closer. "We need pajamas."

With five young children in the house, she had learned one always put on clothing after sex.

Even though Monday was a school holiday celebrating a local historical event, the Grissom children did not sleep late. Within minutes of hearing someone up, Sara was out of bed. She tucked covers over her sleeping husband, who groaned, mumbled, and pulled a pillow over his head.

By the time milk and cereal was poured into four bowls, Grissom arrived in the kitchen carrying Will.

"Dry?" Sara asked.

"Clean and dry. He needs to find his way to the kitchen instead of our bed!"

On seeing his mother, Will caused a string of reactions causing a familiar chaos—the baby reached for Sara, Grissom reached for his coffee cup, Bizzy scooted to the bench where her sisters were, and Eli pushed her bowl of cereal toward her. Coffee splashed as Grissom turned; milk spilled as the bowl moved. Ava and Annie shouted warnings that sounded like dual sirens. Will was happy to give his mother several damp kisses.

Sara wiped spills, poured more milk, added yogurt and fruit to the table before placing Will in his highchair and sitting beside him.

Grissom peeled a banana. "We need a bigger table." He cut the banana in half, giving pieces to Eli and Bizzy, and reached for another.

Sara smiled, saying, "I like our table. It's just right," as she reached across the table and spooned yogurt into Annie's empty bowl. She knew the day would come when they would need another table but this one kept everyone within her reach.

Eli and Bizzy, excited to have another day to play, were making plans involving toy trucks and moving dirt in the area by the outside play set.

A person unfamiliar with the world of small children would have seen confusion and commotion in the normal routine of getting dressed, of finding shoes, of locating a favorite toy, but it was the usual everyday pattern in the Grissom household. The parents worked efficiently; they had worked together so long that at times they functioned like a single unit, linked by the ability to mind-read. Sara did not have to ask for a shoe; it was held out, waiting for her to take it.

The day was sunny and warm in the way of an early spring day—a promise of more to come in a gentle breeze than blew through open windows. Bizzy had found old shorts to wear; Eli had tugged on a pair of jeans that stopped several inches above his ankles. Sara smiled at their rag-a-muffin appearance and kept quiet as the two children made extensive plans for whatever project they were planning. She knew she would have to remind them to eat.

Ava and Annie, so unlike their sister, were very particular about their clothing; Sara was learning to make her life easier by buying two of everything but in different colors for the twins. Their hair was another constant challenge—and even her husband had learned to use a comb and brush, barrettes and clips. Her fingers worked through tangles as she braided Ava's silky curls.

"I want a ponytail," Annie announced.

"Okey-doke," Sara answered, laughing as she turned to the child she worried about the most. Brushing long blonde curls, easily pulling most of the hair into her palm, Sara had a ponytail fashioned in a few seconds—definitely, she was better at ponytails than braids.

Grissom kissed each daughter as the girls danced around his legs and then he leaned over and kissed Sara. Four children giggled.

The morning progressed with the arrival of Lilly, the housekeeper, who brought her daughter with her. The young teenager was a favorite babysitter and, as she watched the children, Lilly, who came several days of the week, cleaned the house while Sara started on the pile of laundry that seemed to grow like mushrooms in her home.

At noon, Lilly and her daughter left, leaving the Grissom family to an hour or so of quiet; the younger children would take naps while Bizzy and Eli continued to play uninterrupted under the shade of a tree near the house. After getting Will down for a nap, Grissom had gone to his bee hives where he could easily spend several hours.

Sara was on the porch reading to a wide-awake Ava and a sleepy Annie when a dark-colored car pulled into the driveway. It was so quiet, Sara heard the crunch of gravel before the car came into view. A line of trees and a natural berm separated the house and yard from the paved road; Grissom had worked for a year to curve the driveway's approach to the house. And it worked to provide privacy as well as protection.

Hearing an automobile, Bizzy and Eli stopped their play and, once the vehicle eased to a stop, the two children ran to the porch, not in fear but in curiosity of the unknown.

"Who are they, Mom?" Eli asked as Sara stood.

The dog had gotten up and walked to Sara; gently, she placed a hand on Hank's head.

Immediately, Sara knew the vehicle was a government-issued car—the basic, unadorned appearance had not changed in years. She remained in the shade of the porch, watching two people inside the car as they talked to each other.

"Eli, run and get your dad. I'm sure they have come to see him."

The young boy hesitated a few seconds before he bounced from the porch and ran around the house.

A man got out of the car, straightening his dark coat and smoothing his pants before reaching into the car for an envelope. The driver's door opened and, as Sara watched, a woman, similarly dressed in a feminine version of a dark suit, stepped out of the vehicle. As the woman walked around the front of the car, Sara stared.

Something familiar, something registered as recognizable in the woman's appearance. Sara squinted; familiarity niggled through her brain. The woman was wearing dark glasses that covered a good portion of her face—fashionable, expensive—not the kind Sara wore. The woman hesitated, and then, she lifted her face to the sun.

The way she turned her face, the uplift of her chin; recognition was almost reached when Annie made a sleepy cry. Sara turned to lift her from the swing. Ava's arm curled around Sara's leg.

"Who are they, Mom?" Bizzy whispered the same question her brother had asked.

The man was a few feet from the porch when he saw Sara standing in the shade, partly concealed by the thick vines growing across the front.

"Hello!" He said as he reached inside his coat. A moment later a gold-colored badge, glinting brightly in the sun, appeared in his palm. "I'm looking for Dr. Gil Grissom."

The woman had stopped at the same time, removing her sunglasses, and reaching into a pocket for a similar badge.

Sara gasped. Her hand went to her mouth as recognition materialized.

The name came on a breath and then Sara repeated it. "Paula!"

_A/N: If you don't know Paula, read the first or second story in this series! And, again, thank you. We appreciate your support! _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you so much for the great reception for this story! _

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 5**

Sara was looking at a face she had not seen in years, one that had been with her on the day she had met Gil Grissom. Paula Jeffers had been her roommate and a co-worker in San Francisco and, for several years, they had almost functioned as two-sides of a coin. Marriage of one, a move to Vegas by the other had separated the two women. Over time, they had lost contact.

Yet, Sara remembered—a charming girl with exquisite looks, flashing green eyes, and a radiant vitality that always gathered attention. Today, the woman standing in her front of her was an older version of her former roommate; the liveliness was contained, but the determined chin, the tilted nose, and the gleaming green eyes were the same.

Paula's crisp, professional appearance contrasted sharply with the well-worn jeans, the faded shirt, and unruly ponytail of Sara. Yet a startling transformation took place as Sara spoke.

In an instant, the woman was stomping her feet in a rapid tattoo, much like an Irish dancer; a second later, her arms stretched at the same time a high-pitched thrilling scream erupted from her mouth.

"I knew it! I knew this had to be your bug man!"

Sara left the porch, carrying Annie with one arm, swiftly covering the few feet between them. "Paula! Oh, my God! Paula!"

Bizzy would later tell her dad she had never seen her mother so excited to see another woman as the two danced in the grass, hugged, talked at once, and generally ignored everyone else for several long minutes.

Paula was the first to be able to make a coherent statement. "You got married! You've got kids!"

"Yes—yes—I'm—I'm speechless!" Sara replied. "It's been so long—we lost touch!" Sara backed away, keeping her hand on Paula's arm. "You—what are you doing here? How'd you find me?"

"Who is this cutie?"

"You look so-so-professional!"

"And two more on the porch!"

"I can't believe you—you—what are you doing here?"

"She is so adorable!"

Annie had been in the middle of the exuberant reunion, held by her mother, and had gone from a sleepy little girl to a wide-eyed, awake child. When Paula's finger touched Annie's chin, she ducked her head against her mother's neck.

"This is Annie," Sara said, turning to the porch where Bizzy and Ava stood, quietly watching. She waved for them to come. "This is Bizzy—our oldest daughter, and this is Ava, Annie's twin."

Sara remembered from the years she and Paula had been roommates that Paula came from a large family of several brothers who had all been married with lots of children. When the two little girls hesitated, Paula, a smile on her face, bent to their level, and said:

"I've known your mother a long time—before she met your dad! We lived together in San Francisco."

Cautiously, Bizzy joined her mother, bringing Ava with her. As she reached for her mother's free hand, Bizzy said, "We have two brothers."

Paula's look of surprise was genuine. She said, "Two brothers! There are five of you! What are their names?"

"Eli and Will."

Quickly recovering from the shock of her old friend's appearance, Sara turned to the man who stood quietly, forgotten for a few minutes.

"I'm so sorry—it's just—just—we haven't seen each other in years! Please—come in. My son went to get Gil. They should be here in a few minutes."

The man had relaxed into a casual posture. Sara realized he was a good looking man when he smiled. He said, "I'm Rick Thompson, Treasury—U.S. Department of Treasury." He put out his hand, realized Sara's hands were taken, and easily moved his hand to pat Annie's arm. "And you've already met by co-worker. Paula was certain Dr. Grissom was an old acquaintance." He laughed softly. "She didn't tell me it was his wife she knew!"

Sara turned to Paula, astonishment in her voice as she asked, "You work for Treasury? You!"

Paula, laughed as she rose from a crouch where she had been having a quiet conversation with the two small girls, said, "Yes, I do! I've been there nearly eight years. When Gil Grissom's name came in for a reference check, I wasn't sure—I didn't know you two had married—but I was certain a Gil Grissom was very much in love with you—eons ago!" She dipped her head, "I think Dr. Grissom has arrived." Quickly, her eyes shifted from man to small boy and back to Sara.

With a charming manner that Sara recalled from the past, Paula made quick introductions, adding that Richard Thompson would explain the reason for their visit.

Turning to Sara, Paula said, "I came along as driver—and to see if this was your Grissom!" Her laughter was contagious; she continued, "Treasury does extensive background checks—neighbors, former co-workers and supervisors—before a final job offer is extended."

"Who?" Sara and Grissom asked at the same time.

"You were Wendy Sims' supervisor in Las Vegas." Rick Thompson said.

"Yes," Grissom responded.

"Wendy—going to work for Treasury!" Came from Sara.

Rick nodded, "Probably so. I have a list of questions to ask."

"Will is crying," Bizzy said as she tugged her mother's hand.

"Gil, use the table—I'll get Will—we'll stay outside," Sara suggested.

The four children, surprisingly quiet, followed their mother, stood close as she changed Will, gathered snacks, and headed out the back door.

As she passed out cheese and crackers, Eli whispered, "She's really pretty, isn't she?"

His words were not out of mouth before the door opened and Paula appeared. Her infectious grin caused Sara to smile.

"Hello, again!" Paula said with such enthusiasm that all the children laughed. "I'd much rather have snacks out here than listen to the boring talk inside."

Sara watched as Paula's simple words seemed to have an intoxicating effect on her children. A quiet giggle escaped as five children fell for Paula's charm. She giggled with them as she told amazingly animated stories, and, in fifteen minutes, she was singing a song about a goosey gander that Sara had never heard and her children were enthralled.

Too quickly, the two men stepped outside; Sara knew the questions had been answered.

She asked, a gentle request, "Can you stay longer? Coffee or tea?" Her forehead puckered in a frown. "Paula, we haven't had time to talk!"

Paula stood as the men approached. "We haven't—I'll return!" She took Sara's hand, "Invite me. I'll come—there is so much to talk about!" Easily, she lifted Will to her hip," and I haven't gotten to know your beautiful children!"

Grissom was first to extend the invitation, saying, "Come—any time."

A frown crossed Paula's face, "I'm in San Francisco temporarily. For another ten days."

"This weekend—can you come Saturday? Or Friday night? We have a room upstairs," said Sara.

Paula's eyes flashed. "Yes!" She turned to Richard Thompson and for the first time, Sara realized the two were equals, different careers in the same agency.

"What do you do, Paula?"

Paula laughed as she passed the wiggling Will to his father. "I'm a criminal investigator with the financial crimes enforcement. It's part of the Treasury Department."

Sara shook her head, confused.

"We investigate money crimes," Paula snickered, adding, "And I get to carry a gun."

"You don't live in San Francisco," Sara said as she glanced at Paula's left hand. "And—Joel?"

Paula laughed, "Oh, I had forgotten—your Grissom came to the wedding! That was a long time ago, wasn't it! I've been 'not married' longer than I was married." She shrugged her shoulders. "A story you'll hear on Friday—yes, I'll come back." She turned to Bizzy, the one child who had maintained more distance, "and I want to see if this beautiful girl is as much like her mother as she looks!"

Suddenly shy, Bizzy drew closer to her mother.

Paula said, "I'll bet you like to read—what's your favorite book?"

"_Anne of Green Gables_," Bizzy answered.

"Ahhhh—I read all of Anne's stories! Your mother has always been a book-lover!" Paula noticed a signal from Richard. "I'll be back on Friday—and maybe we can read about Anne. I'd like that."

After hurried plans for a return visit, and almost as quickly as the two arrived, they were gone.

Sara waved as the car disappeared. The kids returned to the porch, finding toys and making contented noise.

Grissom's arm went around Sara's shoulders. He said, "Wendy is going to work for the same division that Paula is in."

"I can't believe Paula walked back into my life after all this time."

"What's her story? I remember going to her wedding—you were a bridesmaid." He stressed the word "bridesmaid."

"She's not married any longer." Sara turned to face her husband. "Life is funny isn't it? I thought Paula would have a house filled with kids," she laughed. "And I never thought I'd marry!"

With a chuckle, Grissom kissed her, lightly, and then decided to kiss her again, not quite so lightly. He didn't have to pull her into his arms; she was already there, snuggling into his warmth, their bodies fitting together as they always did. They kissed their way to the porch where they were joined by five wiggling children who followed them to the swinging bed where closeness became a game of giggles and kisses and conversations about a missing toy, a moth stuck to the porch's ceiling, a newly found hole in a shirt; visitors forgotten for now.

_A/N: We appreciate all the readers of this story! Like us, many of you are looking for a happy GSR story—we promise at least one more bedroom scene and more Paula! Thanks again!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Happy December! Thank you for reading! We have been wonderfully surprised at the reception to this story! Read-enjoy happy Sara and Grissom!_

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 6**

Sara turned the page of an old photograph book, her eyes scrutinizing each photo.

Grissom watched as he towel-dried his hair. "Trying to refresh your memories?"

She patted the bed beside her; her mouth upturned in an easy smile. "At one time, I fancied myself a budding photographer—around the time Paula and I moved into that small apartment." She scooted over when Grissom came to the bed but instead of sitting beside her, he moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Relax," he said as his fingers kneaded into her muscles. "You are a great photographer—so the early experience paid off." Looking over her shoulder, he pointed to one photo. "That's from the apartment."

The photograph was of four windows.

Sara laughed, "It is—bedroom window. I'm surprised you remember."

"Remember the time the curtains caught fire? Was that the weekend of Paula's big wedding?" He kissed the nap of her neck. "And you wore this—this corset thing under the dress." His hands lowered to her waist and inched up.

Sara laughed again. "I haven't thought about that weekend in a very long time." She closed the book and reached for him, tugging him to her. "I'm so happy to be older—hopefully wiser."

Easily, Grissom was beside her, his hands finding her warm skin. "We were just beginning to know each other." He puffed a breath of air as he stretched out in the bed. His arm went again to Sara's back, under her shirt. "Sometimes I think how I almost let you slip away."

Sara grinned. This was an old conversation between them. "I knew I wanted you." She moved quickly so they faced each other and kissed him.

Grissom smiled as her lips touched his; she threaded fingers through his damp hair. He said, "Every day—every day, it's easy to love you." He pulled her against his hips. "I wish I had been with you today—Bizzy told quite a story—how excited you were to see Paula."

"It's been a very long time since I've been so surprised—I didn't know who she was when she got out of the car—all professional and official looking. And then we couldn't stop laughing!" She kissed him again. "I'm so glad she's returning—she said she travels most of the time."

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his pajama shirt. She quietly used a swear word. Grissom chuckled and pulled the shirt over his head. Her shirt was removed as easily; her lavender panties took longer.

Sara watched her husband as his thumbs slipped underneath the lacy edge along her thigh. His lips touched her skin, grasped the silky fabric between his teeth and tugged. With meticulousness care, he managed to slip Sara's panties to her knees, keep one hand at the apex of her thighs, and his lips against her skin. The progression along her body caused a tingling, rippling response, a very pleasurable, delightful sensation of expectation for Sara.

The lamps were on; the bedroom door was open but neither cared as Sara lay beneath him. She closed her eyes as Grissom's hands moved over her body, gently, sweeping away all thoughts of children, of old friends, of long-ago events. Their bodies rocked together in a knowing dance, without clumsiness, with the certainty of long-time lovers. She knew his touch, he knew her responses. When pleasure overtook her, he covered her mouth with his as she cried out.

As they lay together amid discarded clothes and tangled sheets, Sara stretched to kiss Grissom's chin. "I've never regretted loving you."

Grissom pulled her closer; a soft chuckle rose from deep in his chest. "You and Paula will have much to tell each other."

With a giggle muted by a pillow, Sara said, "Some things Paula will not hear. Now, find my panties and shirt, please." Another giggle. "I need my sleep—tomorrow is a school day."

Grissom made a sound similar to a growl as his head disappeared underneath the sheet. When Sara felt his mouth on her belly, she lifted the sheet pulling it over her head.

"That is not finding my underwear!"

A soft chuckle was all she heard as she felt her husband's tongue on her skin.

. . . As a child, Sara had loved school—for completely different reasons than her two oldest children did. She dreaded the arrival of spring because she knew what summer would bring. Her children had no concept, had no way of perceiving what their mother's life had been like as a child. And Sara was thankful every day they would never know.

As she walked with Bizzy and Eli to the end of the driveway, the two children exhibited boundless energy, ready for their school day, talking about their friends and plans for the day. Sara waited every morning until her children were on the bus; in the afternoon, she was there when they arrived home.

Friday arrived quickly. The upstairs bedroom had been aired; in the small bathroom, tucked against rafters, new towels were ready for their guest, and Sister Deborah had promised a special cake for Sara's friend.

Bizzy and Eli worried Paula would arrive before they got home from school; Sara assured them she would not.

Annie wanted her stuffed monkey to sleep with their visitor. Ava wanted to sleep with the funny lady who was returning. They wanted to explore and touch everything in the guest room.

Grissom and Will were content with beautiful days and the definite arrival of spring.

By the time Friday afternoon arrived and Sara and Will walked to the end of the driveway to wait for the bus, the house was cleaned and was ready for company. Grissom took Ava and Annie with him to the neighbor's to pick up the promised cake from the nun's kitchen and by the time they returned, Bizzy and Eli were wearing clean shirts and sporting freshly scrubbed hands and faces.

Will was changed into a pale blue romper; a row of bright yellow giraffes decorated its front. Sara helped Ava and Annie dress in similar outfits, one was pink, one was purple.

Everyone crowded around the dining table as Grissom placed an ancient metal cake carrier on the table. Previous experiences with cakes from their neighbors was enough to cause excitement—breath holding, eyes wide, little mouths sounding muted "oh" as their father placed his hand on the silver dome. With much fanfare, he removed the metal top from the old-fashion cake pan.

Breath sounds grew as the cake was revealed; four yellow cake layers, each separated by sliced strawberries and whipped cream, and topped with mounds of creamy icing. The fragrance of the strawberries added to the mouthwatering appearance of the cake.

"It looks like a cloud," Eli whispered.

"Sister Deborah always makes beautiful cakes," said Bizzy.

"I think she's out-done her previous work with this one," Grissom declared.

Just then a familiar malodorous smell caused heads to turn in one direction.

"Oh, Will," Sara sighed as she lifted the little boy in her arms. Expecting Paula to arrive at any moment, she hurried to the boys' bedroom.

The children stayed around the table, each one trying to out-do the others with a description of how the cake would taste with much lip-smacking and tummy rubbing going on.

The phone rang; Grissom answered, and after a few remarks, he said, "I've got it in my office," and he left the dining table.

Will's soiled diaper was only the beginning, Sara discovered. He needed bathing from his back down, a clean shirt, clean pants; even his socks had to be changed. It took longer than a simple diaper change.

In the kitchen, the four children edged closer to the cake. Ava and Annie stood in chairs and leaned over the table. At some point during their talk about the cake, one small hand touched a strawberry causing it to fall to the platter.

Eli reached over and picked up the strawberry, putting it in his mouth. Slyly, he grinned before he licked his lips.

"Eli!" Bizzy whispered, surprised that he would take a strawberry.

"It's really good," he replied and stretched his hand toward the cake. His finger pulled another strawberry from between the cake layers. "One for you."

Bizzy took the berry and nodded her head in agreement.

One of the twins made a grumping sound. Eli pushed two more strawberries to the platter. As the small girls licked their fingers, Eli dabbed his finger into the fluffy topping. Instead of eating it, he held his finger out to Bizzy. She licked it off with her tongue and giggled softly. She reached for another strawberry.

In much less time than one would think, the four children had eaten most of the strawberries, the whipped cream, and the fluffy icing. The top two cake layers slid sideways.

Eli poked a finger into one of the cake layers and pinched a small piece off. As he chewed, he said "This is good cake, but strawberries were really tasty."

Ava and Annie imitated his actions; both nodded in agreement. Bizzy's fingers were half-way to the cake when the sound of her mother's footsteps caused her to stop.

Her eyes grew wide. "We are in trouble now," she whispered. Quickly, she ran around the table and stood in front of it; her slim body shook with anxious nervousness.

Eli, realizing his sister was right, jumped beside her in an attempt to hide the cake. Ava and Annie stood up in their chairs, uncertain of what was happening but knowing a change had occurred.

Sara laughed as she placed Will on the floor; he ran toward his dad who was returning from his office.

"Hey, little buddy! Do you smell better now?" Grissom clapped his hands as Will squealed with delight.

Sara took a quick glance at her four older children, almost in the same places she had left them. Then she had to do a double-take; her previously clean children were marked with bright blotches—red spots stained their clothes—her mind attempted to process what was wrong—which took less than half a minute.

Breathless for another full minute, she tried to speak but only wheezed as she tried to form words. Finally, "What? What happened here?" Her voice was slightly higher than normal, but she managed not to yell.

Her children were a mess; strawberry juice made their mouths look like clown faces. Red stains dripped down the fronts of shirts.

And the cake—a few minutes ago, it had been a vision of a baker's perfection—now leaned to one side, most of the strawberries were gone, all but a thin coating of icing had disappeared. Multiple holes marked the once pristine cake.

Grissom, oblivious to what was occurring a few feet away, was playing with Will when he heard a car arrive.

"Paula is here!" He announced, picking up Will, and heading toward the front door.

Sara turned to the door, turned back to her children and, seeing extremely remorseful looks on two faces, she grabbed a handful of napkins and started wiping faces without uttering another word.

As she cleaned Bizzy's face, the child said, "I'm sorry, Mommy." Tears filled her eyes.

Sara wiped eyes and turned to Eli. She said, "We will talk about this later—you both know your sisters look up to you. After Paula's visit we will—talk—do something—about this." She pulled Eli close and kissed his forehead then did the same to her daughter. "Right now, we'll enjoy our visitor."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Eli whispered. He blinked as tears welled in his eyes.

"Go greet Paula," Sara said with a smile, turning to Annie and Ava with more napkins. "Help with her luggage, please."

The twins stood quietly as she wiped hands and faces. Hearing Paula and Grissom on the porch, she dabbed at their stained shirts before lifting each child from chair to floor. She took a few seconds to cover the cake and move it to a counter before the door opened and Paula, laughing and talking, appeared.

Sara hesitated briefly as she took a deep breath and crossed the space with a light, buoyant step that betrayed her distress of a few moments ago. Her children were laughing, Grissom was talking, and Sara joined in as she pulled her old friend into a two-arm hug.

_A/N: And if you would be so kind as to leave a word, a comment as a review! Start December with a bang! And another chapter soon. Thank you. _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you for reading...enjoy!_

**A Few Days in April**

**Chapter 7**

Sara stirred a pot of rich tomato sauce and checked on the pasta next to it. It had been an exciting two hours since Paula arrived. When their guest had pulled out age-appropriate gifts for everyone, Sara and Grissom expressed thanks and the children had immediately made a new best friend.

Quietly, Sara had filled Grissom in on the red stains on shirts and the cake disaster. His response was to lift his eyebrow and grimace. "That's the second time!" He shook his head. "You think we'd learn," he said with a deep sigh. "There're frozen strawberries if that will help," he suggested.

An hour passed before Sara and Paula made progress in actually catching up on the years; other than the obvious five small children running around wearing hats, feather boas, masks, and capes Paula had brought, the two women had not talked about the past.

Once outside, Paula had screamed with delight at the swinging bed; she was shown every push-pull-and ride-upon toy on the porch and had been given a demonstration of how the swings, glider, slide, ladders, and climbing wall of the play set worked.

Finally, Sara and Paula returned to the kitchen where the fragrance of plum tomatoes, eggplant, squash, onions, and garlic simmered in the cooker.

"Salad, pasta and sauce, broccoli, and bread," Sara explained after telling Paula about her vegetarian meals. "We eat eggs, cheese, drink milk, but no animal meat."

Paula laughed, "My mom would die if any of us announced we were vegetarians! Since I've been in San Francisco, I've gained ten pounds eating meatballs and cannoli!"

Sara opened the refrigerator, took out makings for a salad, and handed Paula a knife, saying "You can help. The kids love carrots."

As everything went into a colander, Sara reached over and lifted the top of the cake pan. "We were going to have a beautiful strawberry cake, but this is the result of leaving four kids alone for five minutes."

When Paula saw the ruined cake, she snickered; then she giggled. Glancing at Sara, who was not smiling, Paula laughed harder. "Oh, Sara—this is such a kid thing! We did it to my mom—couldn't have been much older than Bizzy is now! She put us in different corners with our noses stuck to the wall!"

Sara did not smile. "I'm not sure what I'll do." She reached into the freezer and found a bag of strawberries. "Guess we can add these—what do you think?"

"It beats the heck out of those ramen noodles and nasty energy bars we ate!" Paula wiped her eyes, saying "It's funny as hell, Sara! Those kids are going to do something like this every week!"

Sara rolled her eyes. She said, "On Sunday, Ava walked down the aisle of the chapel with her dress over her head—showing off her bottom to everyone."

Paula snorted with laughter.

"That's not all of it—our neighbors are nuns—one baked the cake—wonderful neighbors. I'll tell you all about them later—but," suddenly, Sara snickered. "Eli—on Sunday, killed their darn rooster with a rock!" She bit her lip as she snickered.

Paula's mouth gaped open; then a rolling giggle grew into full-blown laughter. She wiped her eyes again, coughed, and continued laughing. Sara joined her; trying to control her laughter made Paula laugh harder.

"Shhh—this is not funny!" Sara wiped her eyes. "Maybe I need to stand them in a corner like your mom."

"Most of the time it didn't work—just gave us time to think up something else!"

Several minutes passed before they could return to preparing dinner and moved on to Sara's life since the two had lived together in San Francisco.

The two women talked about Sara's family—how Eli came to live with them on the same day Sara learned she was pregnant with twins.

"I cannot imagine not having Eli," she said. "He's my son—our son." She stopped cutting cucumbers for a few seconds. "When he came—it was supposed to be temporary—but I knew he would stay with us."

"And you ended up with five! Only Bizzy looks like you."

Sara grinned. "I wanted my boy bookends."

"My mom had four boys before she had me—and had two more boys trying to have another girl!"

"Six boys," Sara exclaimed, "And I think three girls make me pull my hair. Why don't I remember your younger brothers?"

"Because they were young—twelve, fourteen—when we were roommates. They were part of that tribe of young kids we were avoiding."

Sara nodded, saying, "We were definitely not looking at teenagers!"

"You and the bug man have made a good life here, Sara. Your kids are happy—secure." Easily, Paula laughed, quietly saying "Who would have thought you would be the one with the children?"

"Tell me what happened."

"Joel and me? Short version—we were in lust, not love. By the time we realized there would be no children—not by the usual methods—we didn't even like each other. By the time he announced he had a pregnant girlfriend, I was already out the door." She smiled at Sara. "It wasn't really sad or any kind of big bang ending. I was working in major crimes, went home one night and found a note. Same day I had decided to apply to Treasury." She laughed, the same laugh Sara remembered. "When I realized I wasn't going to have children—I made my peace with it. I've got nieces and nephews—fourteen at last count and more coming—my work has been my life."

Sara added several ingredients to the salad bowl; leaning near Paula, she asked, "What about a boyfriend? I hope you have—you know—someone—so you don't sleep alone all the time!" She stressed her last words.

Somewhat guardedly, Paula answered, "I do have a friend—a wonderful friend—don't judge until you've heard the story—but…"

At that moment, as if a signal had been given, Grissom and the children entered the house in a whirlwind of noise that stopped the women's conversation for a time.

As the only girl in a large family, Paula was familiar with the experience of dinner with small children. Hands were washed, food was placed on the table and, except for Will, each child had a task. The twins placed napkins and forks and spoons at each place with a precision that impressed Paula. Bizzy and Eli handled plates and glasses; Grissom took care of Will.

Paula was seated between Bizzy and Annie and as she spooned pasta onto Annie's plate, asked if the sauce went on top or to the side.

"The side, please," Annie said.

She asked the same question about the salad dressing; discovering all the children ate dressing on their salads with a little extra for dipping.

Several hours later, Sara joined Paula on the porch swing; she carried two tall frosted beverage glasses.

"I'm exhausted—and I just followed you two around!" Paula took one glass and drank almost half before stopping.

"We both do it—Bizzy and Eli love having their dad to themselves for just a little while before bedtime."

"This is good," Paula said, indicating the glass filled with a dark pink liquid.

Sara lifted her glass. "Decided this was a better way to use the strawberries—not much vodka so if you want more," she indicated the kitchen.

Paula laughed, "The kids were very quiet while eating plain cake and ice cream."

"Yeah, they know I'll come up with chores for them to do for destroying that beautiful cake!"

Pushing the swing with their feet, they sat in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"What's the story with the bed? I am certain I've never seen one of those."

Sara laughed, and then sighed. "Short version—before Will was born I was on bed rest for weeks. Gil came up with this idea so I could be outside and the kids could be with me."

Paula burbled a sound, "I always knew that man was smart."

"More?" Sara asked as she held up her glass. Paula shook her head. Sara continued, "You know enough about what I've been doing—now tell me about your man—your 'wonderful man'—and that was the last thing you said."

Paula leaned back and let her foot push the swing.

"You said your neighbor's were nuns—how does that work?"

This wasn't the conversation Sara meant to return to, but she explained, "Remember my mother's situation? Never good—but she got involved with a church and from there she came to live with the nuns who are our neighbors." She glanced at Paula and continued, "They have a farm—a real working farm. They don't walk around in habits and pray all the time."

Paula giggled. "This is the place where Eli killed the rooster, right?"

"Yeah."

"Poor rooster. Probably walked into that rock after living with those nuns!" She started laughing. "Poor rooster—only male on the farm, I'll bet!"

Sara smiled. "They are great neighbors—and really wonderful friends—like family." She caught Paula's glance. "They are—tomorrow we'll walk over. You will be surprised at how simple life is."

"And your mother?"

Sara shook her head. "She died suddenly—after Ava and Annie were born. She—she—we got to know each other." Sara smiled. "You know everything about me—now tell me about this wonderful man of yours."

Paula hedged; quiet for a full minute and then cleared her throat several times. She was obviously evading the subject or hesitating in an uncharacteristic way.

A thought occurred to Sara. She asked, "Is he married?"

"No—no, never married. He—he's…"

Grissom appeared in the doorway. "Kids are down and out," he announced. Noticing the almost empty glasses, he asked, "Can I get refills?"

"No," both women answered.

He took their glasses and asked, "Do you mind if I work and leave you girls to catch up?"

Paula laughed first. "We'll talk about you!"

Waving a hand, Grissom laughed and disappeared.

"Your wonderful man," Sara reminded Paula of their interrupted conversation.

Paula grew still; her finger traced the watermark left by the glass. "It was all an accident—or fate, who knows." She settled back into the swing. "I moved to Virginia to work for Treasury—first time I had been away from my family in my life. When I had time off, I'd venture out to explore and one weekend—it was in October—I stayed at a bed and breakfast, came down for breakfast and there was one person in the dining room."

Quietly, she laughed. "Before we finished breakfast, I knew—as certain as I had ever been of anything in my life—I was in love with this quiet handsome man who laughed easily and seemed to know what I was going to say before it formed in my brain!

"We spent the entire day together walking around the small town. He was well-educated, exceedingly polite—so different from any man I had been around. I should have known—at least guessed—but I did not. Only later, he told me what he did—what he was—is…"

"Paula! You are beating around the bush—what is it you won't tell me about this wonderful man?"

Sara's friend looked away before she said, "Not another person knows about him, Sara. He is a wonderful man—person. His work—his profession fills a need—a responsibility—that—that…" She paused.

In the few moments of silence, Paula's words clicked into the puzzle-solving part of Sara's brain. Whispering, Sara said, "A priest—your wonderful man is a priest."

_A/N: We appreciate the response to this story-thank you for reading and for your reviews! More to come!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Thanks for reading! We appreciate hearing from you!_

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 8**

"I've always said you were the smartest person I've ever known."

Sara gave a soft laugh. "A priest—your wonderful man is a priest!" Reaching over, she patted Paula's arm. "I'm not going to judge you! If you are happy—if he's happy—if you get to see each other. You do get to see each other, right? I mean, you don't go to church and sit in a pew, do you?"

Paula laughed. "How did I forget how practical you are?" She turned to Sara, reached out and hugged her. "I knew when I said there was a man, you wouldn't let it go," she laughed. "I don't go to his church and yes, we do see each other."

"A priest—how'd you—how did you actually get together?" Sara made a motion with her hands, saying "What with the vow of celibacy and all of that?"

"Celibacy was not a problem—by the time we met the second time, we knew what we were doing," she laughed. "Only I didn't know he was a priest." She threw her head back and exhaled a breath, puffing her cheeks out as she did. "Once I did know—it really didn't matter at that point—I didn't care if we got married!" She glanced at Sara. "I'd already had the dress and the bridesmaids!"

"Are you happy?"

Paula's smile was an answer. "Yes, we are. I—I realized that he loves God—his profession—more than he loves me and I'm fine with that." Softly, she laughed. "I've heard all that stuff about commitment between husbands and wives—I know he his first love—as well as his second—and I'm second. We enjoy being together, Sara." She paused. "I wish you could meet him one day."

"So do I—maybe I will." Laughing, Sara stood up. "Come on, let's try the bed swing."

They removed several toys, smoothed wrinkles out of the padding and arranged pillows on both ends.

"You sure this is going to hold both of us?"

"It holds all seven of us!" Sara stretched out. The bed moved.

"How do I get in?" Paula grabbed a rope and jumped. The bed swayed and both women laughed. Paula wiggled and twisted until she was stretched facing Sara. "This is neat! Like a hammock only better!"

For a few minutes, they were quiet as they let the bed settle into a gentle swing.

"Okay, tell me more about Mr. Wonderful Man who happens to be a priest. I don't think you live together."

Paula shook her head. "No, we don't live together. He lives in a clergy-church house. I never visit him at his church or his house. We've got a nice arrangement—he visits my place and we manage to vacation together—we've been to Europe, Asia. He does not wear a priest collar when we are together." Paula laughed, "Can't believe I'm telling you this! Sara Sidle, one man since the day you met him! Married to the bug man with five little kids and living next door to nuns!" She hooted with laughter. "There has got to be a lot you are not telling me about this!"

Their laughter brought Grissom to the porch. "You two are having too much fun without me," he said as he walked to the swing, sitting in the middle and giving a strong push. "It's a beautiful night out here—now include me in the story!" Jokingly, he smirked, "Unless the story is about me—then I'll leave."

Soon, with her story-telling skills, Paula was telling about her work, adding anecdotes that had Sara and Grissom laughing. She described how companies, large and small, tried to outwit laws and regulations, exaggerating certain aspects and providing animation as she talked.

At some point, Sara left the bed and joined Grissom on the swing. Gradually, their conversation turned to the night, the scented sweetness of the beginning of spring, the sounds of the night far away from urban areas.

"I'm so happy I came today but I must get some sleep," Paula said. "Sara, I don't remember why we lost touch—young, careers, a divorce, chasing rainbows, who knows—but I've always remembered the days we were roommates with such fun. It was a magical time." She laughed and got up from the swinging bed. "You two have that same kind of magic—from head to toe—flourishing—neither of you appear to have aged a day since that wedding weekend!" She waggled fingers to quote her last words.

Both grunted as they straightened limbs and stood.

"I feel older," Sara groaned.

"If you need anything, just give a shout," Grissom said, holding the door for both women. "No one will bother you and it is quieter upstairs."

Sara leaned against his shoulder. Grissom wrapped an arm around her waist; his expression turned tender as he pressed lips against Sara's dark hair.

"Look at you two! Five kids and you are still in love!"

Grissom kissed Sara's cheek. She grinned, waving as Paula headed upstairs.

A dozen things needed to be checked or done before Grissom burrowed underneath bedcovers, pulling Sara close. "Tell me about Paula. I know I missed something—there was too much laughing going on."

"She has a job she enjoys and her significant other is a priest," Sara said in a whisper. She heard a low chuckle.

Grissom lightly kissed her before saying, "As in Catholic priest?"

"Yep."

"She's happy—or appears to be."

Softly, Sara laughed. "Yes, I think she's happy."

"A priest!" Grissom chuckled again, "How does one fall in love with a priest?" Another chuckle. "Never mind—popes, bishops, and priests married for centuries."

"I've always heard that."

He kissed Sara's shoulder. "I never wanted to be a priest."

His comment caused a cascade of giggles from Sara as his arms folded around her body. He continued to hold her as she tucked closely against his body; in the quietness, Sara realized the simple prolonged touch of her husband, his steady, peaceful breathing warming her neck, was enough to put her to sleep.

Saturday came to the Grissom household in a series of soft whispers and muffled sounds that gently brought Sara out of a sound sleep. She heard the swish of cloth, the muted padding of small feet, the murmur of one child shushing another one. Her eyes remained closed as she listened to the familiar and consistent breathing of her husband—whose head was hidden deep beneath a pillow and bedcovers. She shifted her position and opened one eye.

Ava and Annie stood inches from the bed—two heads of curly blonde hair shimmered with gold in the early morning light; two pairs of round blue eyes scrutinized her with such intensity that identical tiny creases wrinkled each forehead.

She opened both eyes and smiled. Ava's mouth smiled around a finger; her sister did not smile but kept a small finger firmly stuck in her nose.

"Good morning, girls," Sara whispered. She reached a hand to Annie. "Why is that finger up your nose?"

The finger came out of the nose and went into her mouth.

"I'm wet," Annie whispered, her chin trembled slightly.

Sara pushed up, swinging her feet to the floor. "We'll get you dry, sweetie." She patted the bed. "Ava, do you want to cuddle with Daddy?"

Ava leaned closer, shaking her head as an answer, saying in a whisper, "Paula on the porch." Neither girl pronounced 'l' and 'Paula' came out as 'Pauwa'.

Sara smiled; their guest was a greater attraction than an early morning snuggle with dad.

"She is? We'll get dry clothes for Annie and join her," Sara suggested. She put on her robe and turned back to the bed to arrange covers and pillows around Grissom.

"Sister Deborah brought muffins and talked to Paula," Ava said, still whispering, as the three left the bedroom.

Sara knew it would not be long before the entire household was awake; the sun was up and the children would remember it was Saturday. The morning sun already peeking around covered windows promised a breathtaking spring morning, warm and full of promise.

Ava and Annie dressed quickly. Sara removed the damp bed sheets, covered Bizzy, checked on Will and Eli, and put the sheets in the laundry before she and the twins headed to the porch to find Paula.

"Good morning!"

Paula returned the greeting and turned her attention to Ava and Annie for a few minutes; both little girls quickly warmed to their guest.

The morning sun threw a soft silken illumination over the front porch; a bird in the twisting vines along the porch poured out a tranquil song. The sounds and sensations of spring had arrived, Sara thought.

"You have a beautiful place, Sara! I've met two of your neighbors—and they brought muffins!" Paula indicated a large basket covered with a cloth on a small table. She laughed, "And you are right—Sister Deborah and Wanda are very nice!"

While Sara made coffee, Paula poured milk for the girls. In minutes, the noise and laughter from the kitchen and dining table had the others awake and before the muffins had cooled, everyone was eating, talking, and making excited plans for the day.

"First, let me show off my bees," Grissom suggested as the two women began to talk about walking to the neighbors.

Paula laughed. "He is a bug man, isn't he!"

_A/N: Again, thank you for supporting us by reading and your reviews! Two more chapters to come!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thank you for reading. The last chapter coming up and we think it will be a sweet one!_

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 9**

Eli and Bizzy giggled with delight as they helped Paula fasten Velcro tape around her ankles.

Eli said, "One time Dad had to take off his pants when some new bees flew up his leg!" The little boy jumped around Paula mimicking the actions of his father. "He had stings here and here," he pointed to his thigh and his ankle.

"Are you telling me I'm going to get stung?" Paula asked, laughing at the boy's antics.

"No," Bizzy answered, "just stay calm and don't freak out. I don't wear gloves any more—but Mom makes us wear the head stuff—doesn't want us getting stung on our face."

Grissom handed her a wide-brim hat with netting attached. She put it on, pulling the net over her face.

Bizzy's small hands smoothed the netting to Paula's shoulders, saying "It's like a bride, isn't it? Only a bride doesn't get stung."

The three adults laughed.

Eli said, "A bride could get stung if bees liked her flowers and she freaked out!"

The children knew the bee hives were off-limits except when they went with their father—and, most of the time, they had little interest in the hives. Today, they watched as Grissom and Paula moved along a grassy path; Hank padded alongside Grissom.

The children danced around Sara as feathery clouds drifted across a brilliant turquoise sky. Small birds flittered about them. The spring rains had brought a carpet of wild flowers in a riot of pink, yellow, fuchsia, scarlet, and lavender as far as she could see. Their house bordered state-owned land—a no-hunting, no-farming stretch of green running across the valley.

"Let's pick flowers for the sisters," she suggested. She knew whatever her children gave the nuns would be accepted and exclaimed over as if it was a rare bouquet.

Eli and Bizzy waded into the field, selecting certain flowers with care. Ava and Annie picked a few low growing pink flowers and stuck them in their hair, accompanied by high giggles. Will walked a few steps before dropping to crawl, more interested in dirt than flowers. Sara gave a quick glance to the two adults before turning to her children.

The morning sun warmed the denim on Paula's legs as she kept up with Grissom. She had remembered him as a quiet, taciturn man—he had not changed much except now he was surrounded by five noisy, boisterous children and obviously in love with his wife.

"You have a beautiful place here," she said.

"Thank you—yes, we do." Grissom pointed ahead, "We're almost there."

"How'd you get into bees? I mean, I know you are an entomologist—the first time we met—remember our boss took us out to a bug covered body? But crime scenes to raising bees—I guess you raise bees—or maybe you keep bees?"

When she paused and glanced at Grissom, he was smiling.

"It came on me gradually," he said with a chuckle. "Same as a lot of things in life."

They rounded a curve on the path and the tall grass and flowers gave way to a small grove of trees and a meadow covered with unbelievable wildflowers. Among the trees were dozens of white boxes; Paula knew these were the hives—the stacked boxes were spread in a wide arc.

She could hear the hum of bees before she saw any of the flying insects.

Grissom spoke, "Did you ever hear of colony collapse disorder? Bees were dying by the thousands and by the time most of us had heard about it, honey bees were in real danger of becoming extinct. I found a hive at a crime scene back—it was 2007—and I took it to study. Then," he shrugged, "other things got in the way."

Suddenly, he laughed, saying "Did Sara tell you I proposed over a bee hive?"

"No! She hates bugs!"

Grissom pulled netting over his face, checked Paula's hat and netting and picked up a metal bar kept in a small box. "Keep your gloves on," he said. "She came to see me one day while I was working with the bees, took her glove off—you are right, she's never liked bugs—and right then, when a couple of bees were crawling on her hand, I decided I needed to marry her."

Using the metal bar, he lifted the cover from one of the hives and continued. "I—I knew I loved her. We were already living together, sharing a dog," he chuckled. "And when I saw her with the bees—knowing how she hated insects—I asked her to marry me. She freaked out." He paused and glanced at Paula. "She would never admit she freaked—but I took her by surprise and a darn bee stung her hand!"

Paula laughed. She held her hand up. "Wait a minute, Grissom. It took you nine years to pop the question?"

He grimaced before a smile crossed his face. "Yeah, it did," he said slowly. "I was a fool—and then I almost let her get away—did she tell you any of this?"

Paula shook her head.

"We sort of danced around each other for years—to be honest, I was scared to death. But we got through all that, came here and settled down," he laughed, "and started having kids!"

He pulled a frame covered with bees out of the hive. "These are the worker bees—most bees are female and workers—while young, they nurse the brood, take care of the queen. After a few days, they build the comb, store pollen, and then when about twenty days old, they become the foragers—the ones we see among the flowers."

Slipping the frame back into the hive, he pulled a second one out, inspecting it closely. Paula noticed bees landing on Grissom's back and shoulders and then flying away.

"Do the kids come here?"

"Sure," Grissom answered as he lifted the top from another hive, checking inside. "Eli and Bizzy do. The little ones don't—not yet—but the two older ones can inspect and look for the little eggs. See these," his finger pointed to cells. "Eggs. Over here is pollen—this time of year it will be different colors, and here is nectar or water."

Paula's eyes followed Grissom's finger. "How do you know if the bees are healthy?"

"The pattern—called the brood pattern—is tight. That's good. Not many dead bees around the hives."

"What caused—causes—the colony collapse? Does anyone know?"

Grissom shook his head, saying "No one knows—a combination of things including pesticides and fungicides. So many of what is used remains in the plants—like a human drinking whisky every day, all day. Sooner or later it is going to harm the body-same thing happens to bees with pesticides and fungicides."

He waved his hand. "We live in an area that's mostly organic farming—even the nuns—and have acres of land that's free of cultivation so the bees don't travel far—maybe six miles from the hives. So far we've been free of colony collapse—and our neighbors the same." He grinned. "And we sell the honey for top price—amazing what people will pay for honey!"

Paula's mouth gaped for a moment and then she started laughing. Puzzled, Grissom lowered the last frame back into its box and looked at her.

"I can't believe what you just said," she explained. "I had forgotten all about it—did you ever hear of the ALW Food Group? It was one of the first fraud cases I worked with Treasury—and Homeland Security and Commerce. The company had an office in Chicago importing tons of honey into the country—from China—then mislabeling it in a maze of false documents, selling it as U.S. honey."

"I think I did read about that case."

Paula laughed again, "At the time, I had no idea why it was so important to go through all these documents about honey! But I learned how much money is in honey business!" She poked Grissom with an elbow. "No wonder you two love it out here. The bees do most of the work!"

Grissom chuckled. "We don't make that much." Changing the subject, he asked, "Did Sara tell you about her research work?"

"No."

As they moved around the hives, Grissom related the details of Sara's role in ground-breaking research and of her teaching at the local college. Soon, Paula was holding the first frame out of the hive while Grissom checked the others. They talked easily and casually as they checked a dozen hives.

Finally, Grissom said, "We need to get back. Sara wants you to visit our neighbors before you leave. The women are more than neighbors—they are family in the best way."

As they walked back to the house, Paula told Grissom of her long-time lover. "I know we will never marry; we'll never have what you and Sara have. And I'm fine with that." Softly, she laughed. "I know when he's with me that—that he belongs to me. Not the church, bound by some promise made to his bishop."

Grissom smiled and nodded. He recognized certain aspects of Paula's life as similar to what he had chosen at one time.

Later, walking with Sara and the children to the neighbors, Paula held hands with Eli and Ava after promising she would hold hands with Annie and Bizzy on the return trip. Grissom carried Will and the conversation bounced from one child's story to another.

Eli was the one to tell the story of the cake; Bizzy admitted she was worried about the impending punishment.

Ava giggled and tugged Paula's hand. Paula leaned over as the little girl whispered, "I ate the cake—before Eli," she giggled again. "I did it first!"

_A/N: Thanks for reading-one more chapter to this story! And we appreciate hearing from readers. _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Thank you for reading our little fluff story. _

**A Few Days in April **

**Chapter 10**

Grissom rested his shoulder against the doorway, holding glasses of wine in his hands, and watched Sara dry her hair. He had gone for the wine and by the time he had returned, Sara was out of the shower, wearing a soft blue robe he had given her several years before.

The bathroom, in need of fresh paint, was so small he could stretch his arms and touch opposite walls. The boxy shower was large enough for one person—barely—even though they had managed an intimate arrangement on several occasions and that thought caused him to smile.

Sara turned off the hair dryer, and with a grin, asked, "And what are you smiling about?"

"I picked the right girl all those years ago." He handed her a glass and they clinked a private toast before each took a sip.

Sara said, "I enjoyed Paula's visit." She took another sip of wine. "I had forgotten how much fun—how much we laughed. And she likes our neighbors."

"She reminded me of many things." He lifted his glass in the direction of the children's rooms. "It appears they accepted their punishment."

Sara shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes. "Two days with favorite toys on the shelf should teach a lesson." She stressed "should" and continued. "Ava told Paula she was the first one to taste the cake! And Eli was willing to take the blame! Poor Annie-I worry about her."

With a chuckle, Grissom said, "He is their big brother and you worry about all of us! Annie is fine," he paused, "A little to willing to follow her sister."

Effortlessly, he leaned across the sink and kissed her forehead. Then, by mutual consent, his lips sought hers and Sara responded in kind. By the time they parted, Sara had forgotten her damp hair. Wine glasses rested beside the sink.

"So you picked the right girl," she responded, pursing her lips to keep from smiling.

"I did." He took her hand and held it, his thumb lightly grazing her palm, before moving his hand along her arm.

The weight of his palm felt solid as his fingers touched Sara's shoulders where he began a slow, rhythmic caress of the muscles across her back.

Sara reached to cup her husband's face between her hands; with her fingertips, she lightly traced his jaw, along his brow, and then, slowly and with great deliberation, she kissed him. She gave herself the luxury of time, sinking deeply into his embrace.

Finally, murmuring against his lips, she said, "I knew the first day we spent together that I wanted you." She leaned back in his arms and gazed into pools of cerulean blue.

"You were so young—I was so old—I felt so old."

She laughed again, easy, provocatively. "Everyone is asleep."

Grissom pulled her closer; she could feel his growing arousal and let the pleasure of it travel up her spine. His hand lifted the edge of her robe. Sara watched as his face changed in surprise.

"What's this?" He asked as his fingers caressed her bottom. "The one's I got—"His playful tone underscored the touch of his hand as he turned her body and lifted the robe.

"I've been saving these—"

"Well," he drew out the word on a breath of air as he parted the front of her robe.

Underneath, she wore cream-colored lace boxer shorts that hugged her hips and a simple short tee-shirt.

A smile broke across Grissom's face. With one hand he pushed the robe off her shoulders and to the floor and then seized her hand and led her into the bedroom.

As eager to touch as be touched, Sara turned to him, giving him a light push so that both of them landed with a bounce on their bed. She stifled giggles as she threw a leg over his lap and worked his shirt over his head. Her hands ran over his chest, to his stomach. She planted a quick kiss on his mouth before he tugged her back onto the bed and rolled on top of her. One hand swept along her body to her thigh, pulling her leg around his hip. Her hips lifted to his as the jut of his erection pressed against the heavy lace of her boxers. Soft, muted laughter interrupted their kisses.

Sara pushed against his shoulder, murmuring a protest about her position, as he rolled on to his back, bringing her with him so she straddled him. Both smiled as her hands played over his chest; his hands traced the patterns of the lace.

With a throaty laugh, she leaned forward, kissing him again and again as she worked her way down his chest, over his stomach, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pushing them down his legs. She moved lower, teasing him with her tongue, threading fingers through a bird's nest of curls.

"God," whispered Grissom as she took him into her mouth. He buried his hands in her hair and enjoyed as arousal built and rippled through his body as he focused on the exquisite sensation of having her pleasure him. A part of him wanted it to go on forever; another part wanted to roll her over and thrust inside her until they both climaxed in a mindless torrent.

"Enough!" He panted as he fought for control.

With a muffled laugh, she released him and started her way back up his body. When she rose up on her knees, her breasts were conveniently near his mouth; Grissom's hands went underneath her shirt, cupping both breasts, grinning with satisfaction as his head followed his hands.

She reached for the edge of her shirt and pulled it over her head; her butt lifted and then settled back on his erection. The feeling of the lace, the heat of her sex, damp and warm, against his penis caused him to groan.

"I can't take much more."

She leaned over and kissed his mouth; he started to close his eyes when he felt her push the lacy boxers aside. Her fingers closed around him. She lifted up and sank down, guiding him into her body. Several times, slowly, she lifted and lowered her body, going a little farther each time.

Thinking he might die if she did not take all of him—and quickly—he moved a hand to touch her just as she had him completely embedded inside her. Her head fell back; she moaned, and he stared at the physical beauty, the unpretentious sexuality, radiating from the woman he loved.

When Sara tipped forward, opened her eyes, and smiled with desire at him, he hardened even more. Pulling her face to his, he kissed her, taking charge of their pace. His hands swept down her back to hold her tightly as he arched upward, thrusting over and over, until a welcoming release enveloped both.

Grissom heard Sara's gasp of fulfillment before his mind and body exploded in his climax.

A few minutes later, he found her draped over his chest, breathing hard. He wrapped arms around her and kissed her temple

"I love you, Sara."

Placing a fingertip on her chin, he drew it slowly down her neck to the valley between her breasts. A smile crept across his face. "And to think, all I wanted was to drink wine in bed."

Sara playfully swatted his shoulder.

He continued, "And lace panties—I think you'll be getting more of those!"

She placed her hand over his face as if brushing something away. Grinning, she said, "Just trying to see if that look of 'just had sex' would disappear."

He smirked, saying "As if you have room to talk."

Snuggling as a shiver pricked her body, Sara asked, "Can you find my shirt?"

Grissom chuckled and reached for the covers. "That tiny little shirt won't keep you warm." He wrapped both arms around her as he tucked covers around her shoulders. "Stay here—I'll be right back." And as quickly as he had said the words, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned, wearing long pants, holding the two wine glasses. A soft, heavy-fabric shirt was over his shoulder and a damp washcloth over his arm.

"Here you go," he said, placing her glass on the bedside table and handing her the shirt. His eyebrows lifted. "I want to feel those cute panties all night."

"You know you are incorrigible." She sat up and pulled the shirt over her head.

With practiced ease, he folded the washcloth and gently wiped Sara before fitting the lace boxer shorts around her hips when he had finished.

He crawled into bed, rolled on his side to face her, hooked a leg over both of hers and drew her close. Reaching over her, he poured wine from his glass into hers.

"I've had enough," he said.

Sara lifted the glass, held it in a toast position then took a healthy swallow. She licked her lips and grinned.

Sex and wine had brought a pink flush to her cheeks; her eyes sparkled. In the soft light of the bedroom, Grissom saw a graceful, glowing beauty.

"You are beyond beautiful, Sara."

She looked at him with surprise on her face.

"Every day—every week that passes, you become," he paused as she looked at him with an expression of perplexed thoughtfulness. He continued with a smile, "a work of art."

With that, Sara giggled. She placed the nearly empty glass beside the bed and turned into his embrace, curling into his arms.

"Tell me more," she whispered.

"Beautiful, sweet, smart" he said. "And you love me—you love our children."

Softly, Sara laughed again. "We have a wonderful life." Her hand caressed his cheek; she lifted her head from the pillow to kiss him. A frown puckered her forehead. "What happened to my quiet and reserved husband?"

He placed his head on her shoulder, a gentle chuckle escaped. "Today, listening to Paula, I realized how close I came to being like her priest—married to a job that could not return love or devotion—thinking life was over before it began. Thank you, dear."

She kissed the top of his head. "Thank you, Gil."

**The End!**

_A/N: We appreciate you reading this story! Thank you-and even more thanks and appreciation to those who leave comments and reviews. Please let us hear from you! Long live GSR! (Even if CSI ignores it!)_


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